


This Too Shall Pass

by Carmenlire



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Episode: s03ep17 Heavenly Fire, Head of the Institute Alec Lightwood, Hopeful Ending, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Memory Loss, POV Alternating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-10 19:36:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18414488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carmenlire/pseuds/Carmenlire
Summary: Instead of answering Magnus’s question, Asmodeus makes a little pained noise, morosely wondering, “What must it be like to be loved so much that another person is willing to destroy a piece of themselves to make you whole? Tell me, son, how does it feel to know you were loved so much and by a nephilim of all people.”Brain latching on the tense, Magnus can’t help but echo, “Were?”Or, Magnus gets his magic back for a price.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This contains spoilers based on next week's sneak peak!

Walking down a street a few blocks from the Institute, Magnus looks up as someone starts keeping pace with him.

The eyes that stare back at him make the breath shudder in his chest.

“What are you doing here,” Magnus demands furiously. His voice is strangled, wounded, desperate. He hates himself for betraying such emotion and knows that Asmodeus is about to take the opportunity to mock him for, as he’s always called it, _childish petulance_.

Asmodeus doesn’t say anything for a moment, though, instead electing to study Magnus as the sunset bathes them both in warm oranges and reds and purples.

Finally, he asks, curious, “What is it like?”

“What’s _what_ like,” Magnus shoots back, frowning at the non sequitur.

“I have loved you since you found me all those years ago, half-starved and desperate to survive. I took you under my wing, I fed you, I taught you everything a son of mine should know. You are what you are today because of me, Magnus Bane. You are a prince of hell at my command. I’ve never loved anyone so much as you, my child, my heir. 

“And yet,” Asmodeus muses, “You do not love me back. You scorn me, would scrub my very DNA from your skin if only I could be so easily erased. What must it be like to be loved in return, ounce for ounce, pound for pound?”

Magnus doesn’t know what to say to the words, harsh under their soft tone. They strike ice in his chest, a sliver scraping his heart as he remembers a past he tries damned hard to forget most days.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

At that, Asmodeus smiles and it’s one of his most infuriating expressions. It speaks of secrets between friends and makes Magnus feel out of the loop as dread starts crawling up his spine.

“For you, I have made sacrifices. You were an inconvenience at times, always underfoot-- always looking for attention, praise, reward-- and while you are now the most powerful warlock on this plane, you can still be so wonderfully stupid and weak.”

“Compliments will get you everywhere, father, but please, _get on with it.”_

Magnus’s teeth are clenched as he waves a hand through the air in a casual gesture from when he could still feel magic, his lifeblood, running through his veins. It’s akin to a twitch, an aborted movement that he barely notices as he studies Asmodeus wondering just what his father’s aim is today.

 _Hasn’t he taken enough_ , Magnus wonders to himself.

A ghost of a smile curves Asmodeus’s mouth as though he can hear Magnus. The two of them round a corner and as they do so, Magnus finds himself swept into an alley. Rough brick scratches at his shirt, digs into his back.

Asmodeus is a tall figure in front of him and Magnus feels his stare like a hawk watches its prey. His father takes his chin between slender fingers, tilting his face up until their eyes meet.

“You are my greatest joy, Magnus and it pained me-- it did-- to see you sink so low a few weeks ago. My son without his magic, without a piece of his very soul. I’d have burned anyone else who threatened to do just that to ashes, would have thrown them to my hellhounds so that their flesh could be torn from their arrogant little bones strip by strip. But, alas, you needed my assistance and what father tells his son no when he’s so desperate.”

Magnus stills in Asmodeus’s grasp, glaring. “And who is a father to demand such payment when his son--desperate-- asks for help? I am better than you will ever be,” Magnus spits. “I curse the day I tracked you down in Edom. Now, stop playing games and tell me what the hell you want.”

Something shifts in his father’s gaze before gold turns dark. “You’re lucky that the deal’s been struck or I’d walk away for a few decades and not return until you were old and grey and pathetic with age.”

Asmodeus sighs. “I’m a man of my word, though. But know this-- you will never be rid of me, Magnus. Our fates are sealed together and if I have anything to say about it-- if your darling Alexander has anything to say about it-- we’ll be seeing each other for a very long time, indeed.”

Before Magnus can ask what’s going on, Asmodeus’s hand moves to his chest and Magnus feels like thousands and thousands of volts of electricity are lighting him up from the inside. 

It feels like rebirth. It feels like the first desperate breath after burning lungs almost give up. 

It feels like his soul shatters before knitting back into place and in the stunned aftermath, Magnus gasps as he feels the familiar spark in his veins. Without thinking, he waves a hand and swallows a choked cry as wispy tendrils of blue surround his hand.

His gaze snaps to Asmodeus.

Watching Magnus with a smile, his father takes a step back, fixing the knot of his tie in a fastidious gesture Magnus would recognize anywhere.

He’s seen it in the mirror enough times to smash the damned thing a dozen times over.

“Why,” Magnus asks, voice hoarse. It’s the only thought he can grasp, the one rock in a swirling sea.

“I told you,” Asmodeus says, amused. “A deal is a deal.”

Everything in Magnus freezes as he remembers Asmodeus mentioning Alec just before returning his magic to him. He starts shaking, swallowing hard as bile rises in his throat.

“What did you do.”

Instead of answering Magnus’s question, Asmodeus makes a little pained noise, morosely wondering, “What must it be like to be loved so much that another person is willing to destroy a piece of themselves to make you whole? Tell me, son, how does it feel to know you were loved so much and by a nephilim of all people.”

Brain latching on the tense, Magnus can’t help but repeat, “Were?”

“He didn’t tell you-- well,” Asmodeus says, cutting himself off. His expression is stoic even as Magnus sees a certain satisfaction reflected in gold eyes.

“How can Alexander tell you something he doesn’t know? They say that it’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved before. I wonder-- what happens if love is lost but it’s not missing? What does it mean if someone has no idea what they’ve given up?”

Magnus’s lips feel numb as he grits out, “What did you do?”

Tapping his cane against soiled cement, Asmodeus says, “Alec came to me, asking for a favor.” 

Magnus’s gut curdles at the words, at the white hot dread that catches him in a stranglehold. Before he has a chance to say anything, though, to organize his thoughts into some semblance of order, Asmodeus is continuing on, voice a cruel lilt.

“I offered him a deal. Your magic for his love.”

“No,” Magnus whispers. “No.”

Uncaring of Magnus’s imminent breakdown-- no, seeming to relish it instead-- Asmodeus clarifies, “Your boyfriend looked like he was chewing glass at my offer. I would come to you and restore your magic, fill that hole in your chest that hasn’t gone away since you last saw me and in return he would end his relationship with you.

“But you see,” Asmodeus says softly, ducking his chin a little as though remembering something, “I know Nephilim and their cagey tricks. I wouldn’t put it past the eldest Lightwood to accept my terms while embroiling you in a plot so that you two get the best of both worlds. I couldn’t have that, could I? No, instead I laid out my terms-- Alec’s memory of you, every last detail of his relationship slipping away from him in a cloud of smoke. Mine for the taking.”

At that, Asmodeus looks up and their eyes meet, gold against gold, bone-deep grief and realization clashing against mocking glee.

“I didn’t know Tokyo was still one of your favorite cities,” Asmodeus muses and it takes everything Magnus has to stay still and not throw his goddamned guts up at the knowledge lurking in his father’s eyes.

“I didn’t want this,” Magnus says, swallowing hard. “I never would’ve agreed to this. Damn him and damn you for taking this choice from me.”

“Oh but Magnus, my darling son, how was Alexander to know? Wasn’t it just a few days ago that you told him you might never be happy again? What was the poor boy to do in the face of your suffering, your torment? And when he’d set up such a special dinner and gone through so much trouble,” Asmodeus adds absently.

“It was a lovely dinner but hardly out of the ordinary.” Magnus frowns at the insinuation in Asmodeus’s voice and at the flare of guilt it rises in his chest.

“Tell me,” Asmodeus asks pleasantly, “Does Alexander prepare for every dinner by asking for his family ring and practicing a sickeningly sweet speech?”

Magnus’s world grinds to a halt at his father’s words, at the implications.

 _Oh, God_.

His eyes search Asmodeus’s but there’s no sign of deceit, just undisguised joy at the delivery of a truth that sends Magnus reeling. His knees give out and he lands on the concrete hard but the pain doesn’t register.

He remembers Alec’s behavior that day, the stilted way he'd asked, _What? I can’t do something nice for my boyfriend?_

The way Alec had been fidgeting when he’s arrived on the balcony. Even through the haze of alcohol, a part of Magnus had noted Alec’s mood, at the way confusion gave way to disappointment.

At the time, Magnus had thought Alec was disappointed he’d ruined a nice evening together. But now, to know that he’d ruined Alec’s plans for a _proposal?_ Something surges in Magnus before breaking into a thousand windblown pieces and it’s all he can do to keep breathing under the crushing realization.

His thoughts dull as a cane tips his chin up, Asmodeus looming over him in the deepening twilight.

“Alec doesn’t remember you, Magnus. You are nothing to him but a file in the Clave’s records.”

“You will pay for this,” Magnus vows, voice dead. “I swear on every goddamn demon in your realm, you will pay for what you’ve done to me and Alexander. To _us_.”

Asmodeus chuckles, turning towards the street. “You’re welcome, son. Enjoy your second chance and know that it is only because of Alec’s love and my mercy that you’ll return to your place at the top of the world.”

When Magnus looks up a few seconds later, it’s to see that his father has vanished and he’s left alone in a dim alley struggling to breathe when it feels like the weight of the universe is constricting his lungs.

He climbs unsteadily to his feet and rubs a hand over his face, uncaring that his makeup is no doubt ruined.

It’s hard to care about makeup when it feels like his very soul has been stained. Magnus has been dealt blows that would kill lesser men. He’s done things that have tarnished him forever. It’s this, though, that makes Magnus wonder how he’ll cope knowing he’d ruined the best thing in his life, perhaps irrevocably.

With that thought in mind, Magnus starts walking back towards the Institute.

He needs to see with his own eyes that Alec’s lost to him. With any grace from the angels, Magnus hopes that there will be something to salvage.

He needs to save Alec.

He needs to save himself.


	2. Chapter 2

Alec startles, shaking his head a little to clear it.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath. He must’ve fallen asleep at his desk. It’s not that unusual but as he cracks his neck, Alec wonders that his job is just never goddamn done.

He curses again as a headache starts, pain blooming behind his eyes. _Christ_ , Alec thinks. He still has at least three hours of work waiting for him and this fucking migraine isn’t helping anything.

He hears a knock on his door before a bemused, scandalous voice drolls out, “Don’t say that Alec Lightwood, esteemed Head of the Institute, was sleeping on the job.”

Scowling, Alec doesn’t look up from the mess of papers on his desk as his parabatai enters his office.

“Go away, Jace. I’m ass deep in mission reports and I’d like to grab dinner before dawn.”

Jace, predictably, does not do as he’s told and plops down in the chair across from Alec, crossing his feet before resting them on the corner of his desk.

Sighing dramatically-- his parabatai is a fucking toddler-- Alec stands just enough so that he can reach over and knock Jace’s ichor soaked soles from his seventeenth century antiquity of a desk.

“Don’t you have a date to get ready for or something else to do beside pester me?”

Jace snorts inelegantly. “Don’t you,” he retorts.

Alec just looks at him like he’s lost his mind. “Who the hell would I have a date with, Jace,” he asks sardonically. "I spend every waking moment in this office or bailing you out of trouble.”

Focusing back on his tablet, Alec misses the look Jace shoots him.

“Listen, buddy, I know that last night didn’t go as planned but that doesn’t mean things are that bad. You’ll make it through this. You always do.” Jace laughs a little. “Fuck knows that there’s no hope for the rest of us if you two break up.”

Alec frowns a little, confused. What the hell was Jace talking about? He’s just set to give voice to his confusion when his door flies open.

He’s out of his seat, seraph blade in hand, before the door can bounce off the wall.

His confusion shifts to an entirely different source whenever he sees who’s just barged in.

“Mr. Bane? What’s the meaning of this?” Alec looks down at his desk calendar. “We didn’t have a meeting scheduled,” he adds absently as he studies the date.

He hears the silence. It’s deafening. No one says a word and Alec doesn’t even think his companions are breathing.

“Alexan-- Mr. Lightwood,” Mr. Bane says, voice strangled. Alec looks up but the man doesn’t say anything else.

Jace looks between the two of them. Alec feels incredulity coming off his parabatai in waves. It matches his expression.

“Magnus, what the hell’s going on--”

_Magnus_ \-- and Alec has a moment to wonder when his brother became so friendly with the former High Warlock-- cuts him off and while Alec would laugh at Jace’s face any other day, something uneasy is crawling up his spine at the way the two of them seem to be staring daggers at each other.

“Jace, may I request a meeting with Alec. Privately,” he adds, teeth clenched.

If Alec didn’t know better, he’d swear the warlock was two seconds away from having a nervous breakdown. As it is, he wonders what the hell kind of water everyone’s been drinking today.

“Get out, Jace. If the former High Warlock wants a word, I see no issue with it.”

Jace stands up, though instead of leaving immediately, he takes a step closer to the desk, until his toes touch the dark wood. He leans over it a little, peering into Alec’s fucking soul.

“What’s wrong with you,” he demands. “Why are you acting like this?”

“Like what,” Alec asks, expression wary.

Laughing incredulously, Jace echoes, “Like what? Like the two of you are strangers, like you’re just acquaintances. That shit was cute at the cabinet meetings but it’s just cruel now.”

Alec’s expression darkens as he looks up at Jace. “I don’t know what you’re accusing me of but I suggest you forget it right now,” he hisses under his breath, desperately hoping Magnus doesn’t hear.

So, he’s had a little crush on the man since they met a few months ago at Alec’s first cabinet meeting. It’s been a hectic few months, what with Clary Fairchild arriving on their doorstep and Alec assuming the Head of the Institute position whenever his parents divorced but Alec’s always the consummate professional. To suggest otherwise-- in the same room as the guy Alec’s had a crush on, no less-- makes his face burn hot.

“Jace.”

Magnus’s voice is quiet but no less commanding. Alec and Jace both turn to look at him and Alec can’t help but catalog the way Magnus’s clothes accentuate his body. Even now, as a mundane, he’s still jaw dropping gorgeous. 

Alec hasn’t been able to find out just what sort of warlock politics were involved that stripped one of their own kind from his magic, but he’s mostly attributed this extremely rare turn of events as none of his goddamn business.

Angel knew shadowhunters have been butting their heads into downworld business for millennia. Alec was trying desperately to be the sort of leader that could take his people out of the Clave’s corrupt shadow and it wouldn’t do to insert himself into things that were none of his concern.

“Leave us,” Magnus continues. “I need to talk to Mr. Lightwood alone.”

Jace’s jaw clenches as he narrows his eyes, gaze going between the two of them. Finally, he relents but not without clapping Alec on the shoulder with way too much enthusiasm.

“I’m just gonna be outside, buddy, okay? Holler if you need me.”

Alec starts walking toward the door but Magnus is still standing in the way. Jace doesn’t go around him, much to Alec’s confusion.

He has no idea why Jace is being so fucking weird but he can almost see his work for the day pile up even more the longer everyone keeps him from it.

His hearing rune from last night’s mission is still burning low and Alec’s frown deepens when he hears Jace tell Magnus, “I told you that I wouldn’t let anyone hurt him. Fix whatever the hell this is before it blows up and becomes everyone’s problem.”

“Just-- just leave him to me, Jace. I promise I won’t hurt him more than I already have.”

He doesn’t know what happens next, except that Jace gasps-- quite literally, sucks in a harsh breath that’s stark in the silence of his office.

“Fix this, Bane.” Jace’s voice whips through the room, quiet but no less demanding before he turns on his heel.

Jace leaves-- but not without a backwards glance in Alec’s direction-- and Magnus is waving a hand toward the door almost before he’s passed the threshold. As Alec watches the wispy waves of blue fade, he can’t help but wonder what the hell’s he’s missed.

“You’ve regained your magic,” is what comes out of his mouth, inane and stupid. He winces a little and hopes Magnus doesn’t see.

Magnus closes his eyes for a long beat, for two and three heartbeats before he’s opening them again.

_He looks sad_ , Alec thinks. _I wish I could make him better_.

He doesn’t know where the hell that thought came from. While the two were friendly, there was nothing between them except pleasantries at official meetings and a longstanding contract that had named Magnus as the New York Institute’s go-to warlock.

With a pang, Alec wishes desperately that Magnus can resume his place at the top of the New York Downworld now. Meetings were far less tolerable with his successor, Lorenzo Rey, in charge of things.

“Yes, dar-- Alec. I’ve regained my magic.” Magnus’s voice is just above a whisper as he nears the desk and Alec stands belatedly.

“What are you doing here?”

Magnus falters for a moment, as though not expecting the question. He doesn’t say anything right away, though, instead changing course at the last second and heading directly for the drink cart that Alec had installed a few weeks ago.

He doesn’t remember why, though, now that he thinks about it. Angel knew he couldn’t abide the swill in the crystal decanters.

_Probably Isabelle_ , he thinks wryly and then he loses his track of thought as Magnus reaches for a bottle.

Pouring a squat glass of whiskey, Magnus downs it in one go before refilling it. Alec watches as his back expands on a deep breath and curses himself a fool. Magnus Bane could have anyone-- why the hell would Alec think he’d go for a shadowhunter and one with a staid, no nonsense reputation, no less.

Turning back, Magnus brings the glass with him over to the desk, where he takes Jace’s recently vacated seat.

Alec sits down too and can’t help but think that this seems odd. He doesn’t want the barrier of the desk between them but fuck knows what else he’s expecting.

“As you pointed out, I’ve regained my magic. I thought it only appropriate to contact the Head of the local Institute to let them know my change in status.”

Alec laughs, startling Magnus. “Forgive me, but I find it hard to believe that a warlock would run and tell shadowhunters something that’s their own damned business. While we might appreciate it, I’d have no expectation that anyone else would hurry over to a place they can’t stand and all but label themselves a potential threat in the eyes of the Clave. You’re smarter than that, Magnus.”

“Am I, darling?” The term of endearment slips out without meaning to but Alec doesn’t mind. Instead, he feels a curl of warmth at Magnus’s affection laden tone.

“Yeah,” Alec says simply. “You are. So why don’t you tell me why you’re really here?”

Alec watches the faint upturn of Magnus’s mouth as they study each other. There’s something lurking in Magnus’s eyes but Alec’s hopeless to decipher it.

Distantly, he wishes he knew Magnus better, that he could be the person that the man in front of him might confide in.

Which is all horseshit since, when does he have the time to be anyone’s confidante? Alec already has so many balls in the air that it’s a wonder how he gets anything done at all.

Still. The thoughts strikes him as nice, rings pleasantly with potential and familiarity.

Alec blinks as his vision grows a little fuzzy, the headache knocking on his skull-- which had dampened a little with Jace and then Magnus as a distraction-- coming back full force.

“--ander? _Alexander?”_

Magnus’s voice is urgent and Alec has the feeling this isn’t the first time he’s called his name.

“What,” he manages and it’s only then that he realizes he’s cradling his head in his hands, thumbs pushing against his temples with bruising force.

“Hey, hey-- it’s okay, darling. I’m here. Breathe with me, okay? I’m right here.”

Before Alec quite knows what’s happened, Magnus has rounded the desk and he’s kneeling in front of him. Turning his chair sideways, Magnus’s hands come up to cup his face and almost immediately, he feels the pain receding.

Once he can breathe again, Alec looks up only for his breath to leave him at their proximity. It’s only then that he realizes Magnus’s glamour has dropped.

“Your eyes,” he breathes and almost immediately Magnus is sucking in a harsh breath and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Sorry,” Alec says, not. How can he be sorry when he never realized that as stunning as he might find Magnus Bane on a regular basis, seeing him with with glamour down was like a punch to the gut in the best way.

Shaking his head sharply, Magnus doesn’t open his eyes as he hoarsely replies, “No need to apologize, Alexander. You’ve done nothing wrong. _Nothing.”_

Magnus’s tone is intense, as though he can make Alec believe his words through sheer force of will.

Alec smiles a little, can’t help but say, “Still. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” There’s a long pause before Alec releases the words that have been caught in his throat. “You-- you don’t need to worry, you know. They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

A noise escapes Magnus, low and guttural. It sounds like he’s been gutted before a sobbing laugh chases it.

“Oh God, Alec. You’re always surprising me, do you know that?”

A sharp pain shoots through his head but Alec bites down on the groan that tries to escape. Magnus makes a little noise of distress, hands coming up to rub gently at his temples, healing the pain.

“Thanks,” he mutters hoarsely before swallowing hard. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”

Magnus blinks hard a couple of times before he smiles tremulously. “No need to thank me, darling. What’s some help between friends, after all?”

“Friends,” Alec repeats, staring at the man still kneeling in front of him. “And is that what we are?”

Magnus’s smile falters for a moment before he tentatively asks, “I’m sorry-- have I overstepped?”

“No,” Alec rushes to get out. His eyes search Magnus’s as he says, “We’ve just never talked much outside of business. I didn’t want to be presumptuous.”

“Presumptuous--” Magnus’s throat works before he continues, “Let me assure you that there’s nothing presumptuous in being friends, Alec. As long as that’s alright with you.”

“I’d like that,” Alec says softly. “And I’m sorry, too, if I overstepped earlier-- I don’t know what came over me,” he finishes lamely, face turning warm with embarrassment.

Magnus’s expression is confused for a moment before it evens out. “Don’t worry about that, Alec.” He winks. “Don’t you know? Compliments will get you everywhere, darling.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Magnus repeats, voice achingly gentle.

There’s something hiding behind his eyes, some emotion that Alec can’t define and he has the sudden, desperate thought that he wishes he could fix everything for Magnus. While they don’t know each other well, he’s an interesting man and Alec would very much like to get to know him better.

Thanks to what’s turning out to be a truly bizarre afternoon, he just might get that chance.

Tongue swiping over dry lips, Alec manages to get out, “Would you-- would you maybe want to get a drink sometime? It’s okay if you’re busy-- you did just get your magic back, after all, and I imagine you have a million and one things you need to do right now--”

His words cut off as Magnus brings a single finger up to his lips, effectively hushing him. Alec smiles at the gesture, hopelessly entranced.

“I’d love nothing more than to grab a drink with you, Alexander. Name the time and place and I’ll be there.” Something sad flits over his face before he adds with a quiet smile, “With bells on.”

Alec grins, nodding a little to himself. “Are you free tonight?

He knows that he’s being too obvious, that his interest is on blatant display. To his relief, Magnus doesn’t seem to mind.

Quite to the contrary, in fact.

“For you? Always, darling.”

**Author's Note:**

> Catch me on tumblr or twitter @carmenlire!


End file.
